The sick man could turn his head on his pillow and gaze upward into cool
and deep recesses of green where the sun shifted and sifted golden
patches of light, and where through branch and twig the stir of summer
crooned a restful lullaby. Often a squirrel on a low limb clasped its
forepaws on a burgher-fat stomach, and gazed impudently down, chattering
excitedly at the invalid. From its hanging nest, with brilliant flashes
of orange and jet, a Baltimore oriole came and went about its
housekeeping affairs.
As half-consciously and dreamily he gazed up, between sleeping and
waking, the life of the tree became for him that of a world in
miniature.
But when he heard the door guardedly open and close, he would turn his
gaze from that direction as from a minor to a major delight--for then he
knew that on the other side of the bed would be the face of Dorothy
Harper. "Right smart's goin' ter _dee_pend on how hard he fights
hisself," Uncle Jase told Dorothy one day as he took up his hat and
saddle-bags. "I reckon ef he feels sartin he's got enough ter live
fer--he kin kinderly holp nature along right lavish."
That same day Maggard opened his eyes while the girl was sitting by his
bedside.
His smile was less dazzling out of a thin, white face, than it had been
through the tan of health, but such as it was he flashed it on her
gallantly.
"I don't hone fer nothin' else ter look at--when you're hyar," he
assured her. "But when you _hain't_ hyar I loves ter look at ther old
tree."
"Ther old tree," she replied after him, half guiltily; "I've been so
worrited, I'd nigh fergot hit."
His smile altered to a steady-eyed seriousness in which, too, she
recognized the intangible quality that made him seem to her different
from all the other men she had known.
He had been born and lived much as had the men about him. He had been
chained to the same hard and dour materialism as they, yet for him life
had another essence and dimension, because he had been born with a soul
capable of dreams.
"Thet fust night--when I lay a-waitin' fer ye ter come back--an'
misdoubtin' whether I'd last thet long," he told her almost under his
breath, "seemed like ter me thet old tree war kinderly a-safeguardin'
me."
She bent closer and her lips trembled.
"Mebby hit did safeguard ye, Cal," she whispered. "But I prayed fer ye
thet night--I prayed hard fer ye."
The man closed his eyes and his features grew deeply sober.
"I'd love ter know ther pint-blank truth," he said next. "Am I a-goin'
ter live or die?"
She struggled with the catch in her breath and hesitated so long with
her hands clenched convulsively together in her lap that he, still lying
with lids closed, construed her reticence into a death sentence and
spoke again himself.
"Afore I come over hyar," he said, quietly, "I reckon hit wouldn't hev
made no great differ ter me nuther way."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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